Evicted
by Missmishka
Summary: The aftermath of "Pretty Much Dead Already" for Shane. Rated for language. One-shot character study with a complete lack of warm-fuzzies.


I just had to purge this from me. What I love about TWD is that whether I agree with the storyline, I follow it and it moves me. Whether I agree with or like the characters, I do understand them all...

**_Evicted, by MissMishka_**

DISCLAIMER: The usual warnings, I claim no ownership of these characters, they are simply borrowed with love and adoration from the original creators to have their stories embellished on a little more than the show may do. Not for any profit.

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><p>"Look," Shane pressed on firmly, keeping his voice low as he confronted Rick once more, "you've got to be realistic about this. She's dead weight to us. Always has been."<p>

The poor sap wanted to argue again, but Shane stopped him with a raised hand.

"She's useless. Cooking and cleaning are chores even Carl's capable of and as she hasn't even been managing that, it's no good to keep her on. You _know_ this," he locked eyes with his friend, feeling that friendship dissolve further in the moment.

He knew he was on the losing end of it all now, but just kept pushing.

They all looked at him with horror if they bothered to glance at him at all since the events outside the barn.

His Hyundai was loaded to go, a requirement of Hershel's that none of the group had argued against. He would have fought it, but that little bitch, Maggie, had backed her father's words up with a show of force, surprising the whole group by taking up a gun to point steadily at Shane's chest.

"We leave her here, is all I'm saying. Hershel can't deny her sanctuary here, he won't. She's done nothing against them. She'll be better off here. There's no cause to be dragging her out with us when she can stay here where her little girl's buried."

"Shane," Rick finally sucked up the nerve to interrupt him, "she's not been asked to leave."

Something in the hesitance of the man's words kicked Shane in the gut with knowledge of what they didn't say.

"He wants us all gone. Said it plain enough, often enough," Shane argued against the unspoken statement.

"Maggie'll help us sway him on that," Rick said plainly. "We just can't…you were out of line, brother. Out of control!"

The other man huffed out a pained sigh and turned away, scrubbing a weary hand over his bearded jaw. Presented with the vulnerable back of his friend's head, Shane knew he should feel some kind of guilt or self-disgust for wanting to put a bullet right in that spot. He felt justified in it, though, seeing the toll this life was taking on the guy and wanting only to end the suffering.

Suffering that was only going to get worse for Lori and the idea of her carrying his unborn child-he _knew_ it was his, goddamnit-and leaving their lives in Grimes' weak hands just tore him all the hell up inside. She'd said some harsh words and looked at Shane with pure revulsion after the dust settled outside the barn, but he knew if he could just take Rick out of the equation, she'd come back to _him._

"So," he realized the man had still been talking while Shane imaged the splatter of a .9 mil round tearing through that skull, "you can just see what the lay of the land is like there then come back for us. Fort Benning isn't too much further and you should make good time getting there without the whole group to hold you back."

The instruction echoed oddly in Shane's head as he finally recognized all the clues that should have tipped him to this. He'd been a fool to think coming to this semi-private area on the outskirt of the camp had been his idea. Rick had followed him too easily, maybe even led them to the spot.

Shane had been so locked in on the point that Carol would have to be left behind that he hadn't even noticed that he was the only one preparing to move on from the farm.

There was a tension in the others, a watchfulness. From Dale, there had been a smugness that should have told Shane that the old bastard had gotten to the others and turned them all against him. Why he hadn't shot that miserable fool, he had no idea except at the time he'd thought it would have been a waste of good ammunition.

Still disbelieving, though, he turned from Rick and broke back into the circle of tents that comprised of their base.

His shelter was the only one to have been uprooted and packed away for transport to another, as yet unknown, destination.

Lunch was in the beginning stages of preparation and no one would look at him.

He sought out Andrea, remembering her desire to be away from these people. Remembering her desire, period, when her hand pawed at his cock and her leg swung over his lap to fuck him in the driver's seat of his car just the other day after they made it out of that overrun suburb. She at least had the grace to look at him when she sensed his gaze, but he saw only pity in her blue eyes before she gave him a speaking shake of her head and looked away.

Shunned.

_**They**_ were shunning _him._

_Ungrateful fucks_, he thought only to realize he'd spoken when he suddenly had their full attention.

"I got you this far," he snarled at them all, deciding to air his griefs while he had this one last chance. "He was lying in a goddamned coma while _I_ got y'all set up in a safe camp," he flung his hand in disgusted accusation at Rick. "You look to him like your damned savior, but he ain't done nothing but risk all our lives with his damned pipe dreams! You follow him and you follow him to your slaughter! _I _protect you. _I_ watch your backs! _I _made the hard choices that keep us the fuck alive!"

"No one asked you to," Dale spoke up, becoming the voice of them all with his statement.

Shane's gun was removed from his holster and in hand before he even thought of it. If his thumb hadn't had to take that split second to release the safety he would have gladly dropped the old fucker without flinching. No fewer than three weapons cocked simultaneously to his own, though, as Dale had the sense to duck before the bullet fired.

Panting on a bitter laugh, he turned with gun at ready to look at each one pointed back at him.

Andrea and T-Dog he just skimmed over with his scorn.

Daryl's crossbow merited a sneer.

Rick's Python, though, that kind of hurt.

It was really, finally over.

"You're all gonna die here," he calmly eased up on the trigger and re-holstered the weapon. "No need to waste my bullets."

Evicted from their ranks, he turned and walked as steadily as he could to his car.

He didn't look back to see when the weapons trained on his back eventually lowered, if they ever did before he drove off. He started and revved the engine to get away from there as quickly as he could.

It was a damned relief to be free of that burden.

He'd be better on his own. Faster, stronger and safer without their weak weights. Wasn't a one of them that could stand on their own, even that ballsy, braggart redneck. Let them have one another, they clearly needed the props.

He didn't.

He'd be just fine.

The tear he shoved from his cheek was nothing more than grit from the damned dust blowing he stirred up as he put more distance down the dirt road back to the highway.

It worked as an excuse if you ignored the fact that he hadn't put down any windows.


End file.
